A Girl in the Woods
by Alice Starr
Summary: Charlotte lives in a world full of monsters,ghouls,and things that-go-bump-in-the-night.She always wanted to be a hunter,and when her mother is murdered she is free to go follow in her fathers footsteps.Will she fulfill her destiny? Will she survive?
1. Chapter 1

**_This story is property of Alice Starr. Enjoy!_**

The Girl in the Woods

Chapter 1

"But mother-" I protested, but mother cut me off short with a stern look and the muttering of "Go to your room." I huffed up the stairs, making sure to stomp extra loud to make sure mother could hear the distaste. I pushed the clean white door open, kicking dirty clothes out of my way. They slid down in a heap against the pink walls of my bedroom. Mother had painted it this way, insisting I was a girl and this is what a girls room should look like. It was small, barely enough room to fit the purple polka-dotted bed, in which my feet dangled off of on account of it being to small for me.

Despite the small room, the closet was fairly large. Not that mother would know this. When we bought the house, the owner told us it was locked and she had simply accepted the fact. She clearly didn't know that I had found the key years ago. I slid the string out from under my shirt, sliding the key into the bulky silver lock and slipping inside the dark room. My back found the familiar corner, even in the pitch black. I sighed happily. My hands grazed the floor, sliding across the waxy surface of a well used candle that had melted across the floor. I found some matches, sliding it across the rough wall, hearing a crackle as flame erupted to life. I lit the candle, watching the small flame brightening up the darkened room. I smiled to myself. This was the place I could get away from my mother and her ways. This was the place where I could get away from the world she forced me into. This is the place where I could be me. Charlotte.

I stretched my long legs out, my cold toes ruffling the old, dried up pages of a book. I slid it closer to myself with my toes before spinning onto my stomach, flame making the book visible. My feet absentmindedly crawled up the wall behind me, causing myself to be lying on my stomach, half in the air. I stuck my nose to the cover of the leather book, sucking in the sweet smells. I carefully untied the worn out twine, cracking open the first page. She read the ink scribbled words written in the middle of the page, though she had read them a thousand times in her life.

_"My name is John. If you are reading this, I am dead. I give you this warning, that once you read the contents of this book, there is no turning back. You will be forever committing yourself to my life. A hunters life. It is not an easy one. You will die. I wish you well if you do decide to continue. Remember to follow these instructions carefully, they can mean the difference between life and death. Do not take anything said lightly. Trust no one. Not even yourself."_

I had lived by my fathers words. I did not trust my mother, and I certainly did not trust my uncle. I didn't even trust myself half the time. I did trust my father though. I trusted him whenever I was 6 and he taught me how to shoot a gun. I trusted him whenever he held me in the middle of the night, awaken by nightmares. I trusted him whenever he said I was too young to understand why we lived in the middle of the woods, and not with my mother. I trusted him when he said he would come home that day. I shouldn't have.

I remembered the old withered couch. The one I sat on as I stared blankly at his gun, sat upright against the corner across the room. I had barely head my all too cheerful words at the time, though the ones I remembered stuck. "Dead...accident...live with us."

Before I could stop it, the terrible memory was playing through my mind.

_"What did you say?" The eight year old girl snapped, spinning her head towards her aunt. Her __aunt was perched on top of the kitchen table, her long provocative legs crossed over one another. She held herself high, and Charlotte thought she had looked like a bird. Her blonde hair was twirled nearly against her head, and her nose was long, like a beak._

_"I said he was a coward, that man, your father. Better off dead anyways. Only ever thought of himself. I remember one time -" her aunt carried on, but the words were lost in Charlotte's mind. She grabbed the one thing closest to her, a leather book tied shut with twine. It was the only thing they had found of her father, they had said. She was running towards her aunt and in blind fury she hurled the book towards her bird head. The book hit her square in the beak, causing blood to pour from it. She toppled backwards over the table, her long arms flailing out and hitting a mahogany box. The lid swung open, and Charlotte noticed the sun glinting beautifully off the long, polished silver blades as they swung from the box and after her aunt. Charlotte was pushed to the floor by her uncle, and him and others rushed towards her aunt. Charlotte sat on the floor, not sure what the big fuss was about. She couldn't see through the swarm of legs behind the table.  
_

_All of a sudden, there was shouting. Her mother fainted, but no one bothered to catch her. Someone comes out from the crowd and pounded towards her. She was soon being thrown into the air by her uncles tight grasp on her frail, eight year old body. He stuck his ugly face close to hers, so close that Charlotte could count the veins in his nose. The stench of meat and beer engulfed Charlotte as he opened his mouth of yellow rotting teeth to screech at her. "What did you do, you little twit? You just go around killing people every day? Like an animal? Like your father?" Charlotte kicked and squirmed, trying to break free from his grasp. Finally, she was dropped, and she heard him spat insults at her as she crawled to her feet and ran out the door. Her feet were soon soaked with cold morning dew, but soon sharp twigs were cutting into the soles of her bare feet as she ran through the forest, tree branches whipping at her face as she only ran in one direction, away. She didn't know where she was going, but as long as it was away from the house._

They, they being some police men and her mother, found her later that evening. She was curled into a tight ball, her arms hugging her ripped jeans, twigs tangled into her messy hair. They told her it wasn't her fault, that is was just an accident. They told her she could go inside the house and gather a few things, before they could go to her mothers house and "put this all behind us". She took the leather journal, her fathers spare hunting jacket, and a strange necklace that had been tucked away in his desk. They made her put the gun back.

I was snapped back into reality at the muffled sound of mother shouting that it was time for dinner. I groaned, blowing out the candle that plunged me into darkness. I slid out the door and clicked the silver lock back into place. I made a mental note not to bring up being a hunter around her uncle, what her and her mother had been discussing earlier. Her uncle hated the trade, even though his brother was a hunter. Anytime the word "hunt", "ghost", "witch", or anything of the sort was brought up, he always huffed a comment. I did not understand why mother insisted on him living with us. She had always said it was because he had no one else. I always said that was a stupid excuse.

I turned the corner into the dining room and saw my uncle was already shovelling food into his mouth with his dirt encrusted hands. I quickly scooped a large portion of potatoes onto my plate, knowing if I didn't eat fast it would be all gone. She saw her mother had already done the same, but her hands her crossed across her lap and her head was bowed. I tried my best not to roll my eyes as I copied my gesture, shooting my uncle a dirty look. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a cuss and whipped his hands on his already dirty shirt. He then crossed them lazily before my mother broke into a quick muttering of a prayer. I tried to drone her out the best I could, not really giving a damn about mothers catholic way. What was the point? As if there was some God up there, moving us all around as his pieces on his little game board of life.

Mother ended the prayer and my uncle continued pushing food down his throat. I scooped a small serving of potatoes as I eyed my mother suspiciously as she pushed her food around her plate with her fork. Finally, mother cleared her throat, breaking the silence. I raised my eye brows at her to continue as she gave me an awkward smile before taking on a serious expression. "Now Charlotte, you're almost 17. I think it's time you started thinking about the future," she said nervously. I knew that she knows I have already made up my mind, and she knows there will be a fuss. Nevertheless, she continued on. "Thinking about the future seriously." she added. "Now, you could always be a seamstress?"

"I don't want to be a seamstress," I said blunting, giving my mother a challenging look to continue. She gulped, saying weakly, "Well, you could-"

"No," I cut her off. "We have had this discussion a hundred times, mother. I am following in fathers footsteps." I heard my uncle scoff. "Excuse me, was I talking to you?" I said, spinning towards him. He used his half-eaten piece of bread to wipe the corners of his mouth, then pointed a dirty waving finger at her nose. "You listen here, girl." he spat out, "Hunting is a foolish trade. Everyone dies, and for what? Figments of your _pathetic _imaginations_._Ghosts aren't real girl. You're father wasn't murdered by a green witch with a pointed hat."

The sound of dishes clanging as I slammed my fists on the table caused his laughter to stop short. "My father died an honourable man!" I screamed. He shrugged me off and looking away, taking another bite of his bread smugly. My fist raised high about my head. I decided I would put a very large dent in the fat, egg shaped bald head of his. Just as I was about to deliver the blow, I was forced backwards. My mother held my arm, surprisingly strong, despite her frail figure. With the last smidgen of dignity I had, I tore my arm away from her, folding it across my chest. "Charlotte, I think it's time you were to go to bed," my mother said is a hard, warning tone. I shot my uncle a glare, and he only returned with a look of triumph when my mothers back was turned. As angrily as I could, I scooped a large bite of potatoes into my mouth, being sure to mash it on my tongue then stick it out at my uncle. His face written with disgust, I span away from him, stomping up the stairs and pushing through the bed room door. The room was dark, and I realized for the first time we had eaten dinner very late. I hurled myself upon the uncomfortable bed, pushing emotions of weakness deep down, forcing myself to sleep.

* * *

The sounds of pitiful sobs were echoing through my ears as I ran through the forest, pushing tree branches and bushes out of my way. I was trying to find something, someone, I just didn't know what. I knew I had a purpose for being here. I carried on.

The sobbing continued and soon I realized it was me. Distracted, my feet got too fast for my body and I toppled downwards, spiralling down a hill. I reached the bottom and groaned as I sat up, sore from the fall. The forest was eerily quiet, especially since the ringing sound of cries were now not in my ear. I brushed pine needles off of my shirt and was busy cleaning my back when my fingers traced over a thick, sticky liquid. It had soaked through my shirt, and I pressed my fingers hard onto my back, the location of the mysterious substance. I looked at my fingers, which were stained crimson. Blood. I screamed, jumping to my feet and using spit to try and rub off some of the blood. Once most of it was gone, I looked down at the ground, figuring I had landed in something when I fell, and that's why my back was covered in blood. I expected to find a fox, maybe a squirrel. Instead, I found a body. Its legs were missing, and what was left of the chest was a heap of shredded meat. Blood decorated the pale white face, the greyed over eyes open wide in a state of constant terror. The short black hair was stuck to the temple with the blood. With a startling shock I realized I recognized the man. It was my father.

I spun on my heels, running as fast I could up the fill and away from the bloody figure. Once I reached the top, I saw that I was not welcomed by the familiar sight of tall green trees. The forest had caught ablaze, tall, red, swirling fires surrounding the crackling trees. I broke into a sprint, ducking under falling branches and jumping over burning logs. I was in a maze of fire, trapped, no where to escape.

A burning log fell and my clothes quickly caught fire. Flames erupted around my body, causing my skin to burn and boil. I screamed, squeezing my eyes shut to brace myself against the pain.

I stopped screaming as I was suddenly surrounded by a cool wind. I opened my eyes cautiously, confused. I saw I was back in my bedroom, and that it was only a nightmare. I should have known anyway. All my dreams take place in the forest.

The house was silent. On my skin was a thin layer of sweat, and I pushed my long brown hair out of my eyes. I prepared myself to go back to sleep when my eyes shot awake, ears ringing with blood curdling screams.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I leapt from my bed, throwing the sheets into a crumpled mess on the floor. I flew from my room and down the stairs, but stopped suddenly. I heard voices. I put my ear against the wall, trying to make out the muffled words. It sounded like a man and a woman. The man spoke in a growling, raspy tone, contrasting the woman's panicked, shrill voice. It was a voice I recognized. I started down the stairs after my mothers voice but froze again, foot in mid-air, as voices were raised and I finally could hear what they were talking about.

"Where is she?" The man shouted in a chilling, inhuman voice. I flinched as I heard my mother yelp in pain.

"N-not here." she struggled to say. Her voice was weary and filled with pain.

"Is there an upstairs?" Silence. I started backing up the stairs slowly, still listening intently to the conversation in the kitchen. "Answer me!" the man commanded, and I heard the sickening crack of shattering bone. My stomach twisted as my mother screamed in gut-wrenching pain.

"Yes," I heard her say through her teeth. I started moving up the stairs quicker, eyes still transfixed in the area of the voices. I was at my door as I heard another scream, and the sound of a body being pushed towards the ground. I heard my mother sob as she crawled to her feet and walk slowly towards the staircase. "Move faster!" he ordered, then the sickening sound of skin slapping against skin. I ran inside my room, pulling at the front of my shirt. I heard the sounds of feet slowly climbing the stairs. I glanced over my shoulder at the door, my hands frantically searching my neck for the string. The steps were getting louder and they grew closer.

The rope wasn't around my neck. My eyes flashed to my bed. The covers were still crumbled on the floor and the bed was bare. The only thing on the bed was a weathered string, snapped in half, and a silver key. I flew across room, grabbed the key and struggled to open the lock. My shaking hands couldn't fit the key inside the chunky lock,. The sounds of footsteps growing closer were barely heard over the pounding of my heart ringing through my head. Finally, the lock clicked open and I slid inside the closet as they entered the room.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard my mother say, "She not here." I closed my eyes and fell against the back wall.

"What about the closet?" I heard the man say, sounding more normal now that he wasn't screaming. My eyes snapped back open as I heard my mothers words.

"Locked ever since we moved in. There's no key."

I swore to myself under my breath. How could I be so painstakingly stupid? I had walked myself right into a corner. He will simply open the doors and there I will be, presented to him on a silver platter. My hands skimmed the floor in the darkness, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. I found nothing, but settled for my fathers leather journal. It had worked once before, I thought to myself, shuddering.

I heard the man slide slowly across the room, closer to the closet. I took a deep breath to calm my shaking body and raised to book high above my head, reading to throw it as soon as he opened the door. There was a slim crack between the doors of the closet, just enough to see the figure of a man appear suddenly. He looked like a floating head in the darkness; his skin was pale and tightly stretched across his face. The thing that struck my the most was his eyes. They were unnaturally large and yellow, like a snakes. He walked closer to the door, taking the open lock in his hands and studying it. He moved it over between his fingers and I held my breath, preparing myself for attack. He looked up and I froze. He was looking at me, right at me. His snake eyes peered into mine, watching me trapped at his mercy. I bit my lip to stop its quivering and straightened my shoulders. I narrowed my eyes, challenging him to open the door.

His mouth twisted into a sly, crooked smile ; his sharp, porcelain white teeth sticking out behind his pale, red lips. A single yellow, snake eye winked at me. He spun away and started to slide back across the room, back to my mother. I pressed myself against the door, peering through the crack. I watched him float over where my mother was standing, paralysed. Her arms were frozen stiff at her sides and her lips were moving quickly, hissing out sharp words I couldn't make out. I saw the man put his hands on each side of her face, his long, slender fingers twisting themselves in her messy, brown locks. Her speech was suddenly cut short as she pursed her lips together, eyes widening in fear as the man tilted his head towards hers.

I had never seen my mother kiss anyone in my entire life. It didn't seem like she was actually kissing him, she was merely staying in place under his lips. Without warning, her knees buckled beneath her, but he held her head tight to keep her from falling and continued to kiss her. Soon, he lightly pulled away from her, still holding her head in his hands. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale, and her lips looked pale and colourless. He dropped her and she fell limp to the floor, her legs bent in an awkward position. Her body hit the ground with a loud, sickening thud that sent shivers down my spine. The man didn't even look down at her. He walked from the room, stepping over her body, and was gone.

I burst out of the closet, running to my mothers aid, but it was too late; she had not a spark of life in her. I dropped to my knees beside her head, choking back tears that filled my eyes as I took her cold, limp hand in mine. I bit my lip, not being able to stop the single tea that slid down my cheek. It landed on her soft, pale skin. I slowly brushed the locks of brown hair out of her hair. I always hated my mother. I hated her for taking me away from my father. I hated her for forcing me to become who I was. I thought I would be happy once she was gone. The ache in my heart proved me wrong. I never realized how much I cared about her, or needed her. I slowly rose, placing her head softly on the ground. I looked down at her body, studying every feature of her face, as it was the last time I would ever see her. Barely above a whisper, I said something I had never said before in my life.

"I love you mom."

I turned away from her, sliding my feet across the cold floor. My world seemed to move in slow motion as I walked down the stairs. My body was moving by itself, my mind completely unattached. I felt myself walk into the kitchen.

The man wasn't there. It made no sense. He stated he was looking for me, and I knew he saw me in the closet. Yet he simply left. As strange was it was, there really was no sight of him throughout the house. I heard a soft moan, and I turned the corner, expecting the man. Instead I found my uncle, lying on the floor, curled into a ball. He must have heard my walk in because he turned his body towards me. His hands were covering a large, gaping hole in his stomach, his shirt stained with blood around it. As he turned his head up towards me, I saw a more horrifying sight. Where his eyes used to be, there were dark red, fleshy pits. Blood dripped out of the corner of his eyes and down his face, like tears. The sight shook me back into reality, and my eyes widened, though I did not scream. I felt my chest rise and fall, though it didn't seem like I was breathing at all. I stared into where his eyes used to be, unable to tear away from the horror. My body shook, and, in hearing a sound, I was finally able to pull myself away from the pits. My uncle had more blood spurting from his mouth as he coughed. I looked down at the hole in his chest, then back to his mouth. I willed myself not to go higher, knowing if I looked into his eyes I would not be able to tear myself away again. His mouth opened in soundless speech until he finally croaked out two, mumbled words.

"Help me."

I turned my back on him, walking slowly up the stairs. I ignored his screams after me, sending my mind to a different place so I would not have to deal with the thought that I might have been able to save him. I floated up the stairs, making a left turn, instead of walking straight into my own room, where my mothers dead body still lay. Instead, I walked solemnly down the hall, into another room.

I didn't feel like turning out the light, I thought I would be able to sleep anyway. My tired body crawled its way under the covers of my mothers bed, curling them around me, allowing myself to drown in the sheets. Whenever I was little, I believed the monsters lived under my bed. I would pull my blanket above my head and my father would often find me, pat my small body under the covers, and whisper coaxing words to me. I pulled the covers over my head, though I was not welcomed by my fathers calming words. I sighed, closing my eyes and burying my head deeper into the pillow. I felt my body drift off to sleep, my uncles hollering screams my lullaby, sending myself into a soft, dream-free sleep.


End file.
